Amy’s first impulse was to bat him over the head with the rolled-up magazine. But she stifled that impulse, deciding instead to follow her second impulse, to keep quiet and see how long he was willing to keep up this preposterous charade.
She made a show of closing the magazine, and put it in her bag. Then she stretched and gave a broad, leisurely yawn.
Franz watched her from behind his newspaper. She could feel his gaze like little warm pinpricks all over her body even when she wasn’t looking at him.
“So,” she said, easing back against the buttery leather of her seat. “Tell me about the prince.”
He set the paper down and studied her. “Prince Wilhelm?”
“Who else?”
“What do you want to know?” It was a cautious expression he wore on his face, one that said he was used to being circumspect around people he didn’t know very well, in case they had ulterior motives.
She almost felt sorry for him. “Well, I found a small blurb on him on the Internet this morning,” she said. “From one of those European gossip magazines, I think.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it said that Prince Wilhelm—well, perhaps I shouldn’t say. I wouldn’t want to offend you or your employer.”
He arranged his features into a blank expression.
“As you wish.”
“On the other hand, it is a concern to me. If he’s as awful as they say.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”
“Okay. Is Prince Wilhelm really the vicious tyrant the article said he was?”
He frowned and lifted his champagne glass, the only clue to his discomfort. “I’m not aware that anyone feels that way.”
“Oh, yes. According to the article, he has all kinds of harebrained schemes for taxation and population control.”
He set his glass down hard. “That is absolutely not true.”
“No?” She feigned innocence. “But it was right there in black and white.”
“Of course it’s not true.” There was controlled anger in his low tone. “Those infernal tabloids will say anything to sell copies. The prince wants only the best for his country. That’s why he sent for you.”
“Is it?”
Anger glinted in his eye. “How can you doubt it?”
“Because—well, frankly, because of me. Because you—that is, he—came and plucked an American bookstore owner out of a tiny rural town with the hopes that she would move to Lufthania and rule the country.” The truth of it made her feel a little sad. “It sounds to me like the prince doesn’t want to bother anymore and is willing to pawn the job off on just about anyone.”
“No,” he said firmly. The glint in his eyes was fierce, and it struck Amy that maybe this wasn’t the first time he was having this argument. “The monarch is a figurehead only. There is no power, no ruling, whatsoever. The only danger, if you would call it such, is that the monarch would somehow embarrass the country. And, given our size and the fact that we don’t often make international news, there’s little chance of that.”
A cold feeling washed over her. “So you’re looking for someone to fill a role. It doesn’t matter who it is. An actress would do.”
“No, only a princess will do.”
“Whether she’s qualified or not.”
“You have the royal blood.” He paused to collect himself, and a vein throbbed in his temple. “You need no further qualification.”
She gave a short laugh. “I wonder if the people of Lufthania would agree.”
“The people of Lufthania,” he said in a low, deliberate voice, “want nothing more than to have you back on the throne. The people of Lufthania need the morale boost that would provide. It is selfish of you to even contemplate denying them that.”
Her jaw dropped. “Selfish? Of me?”
He gave a short nod. “It is not only your birthright, it is your duty.”
His tone was so hard she felt as if she’d been slapped.
“Duty,” she said, “doesn’t seem to be something your prince takes that seriously.”
“He takes his duty very seriously.”
She scoffed pointedly.
“You know nothing about the matter,” he said coldly.
“I know more than you think I do.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed.” She was angry now. “For instance, I know your prince is a liar.”
“A liar?”
“Yes, a liar. He misrepresents himself and his intentions.”
“That’s a strong accusation.”
“Yeah, well, if the shoe fits, wear it.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Prince Wilhelm.”
A shuddering silence passed.
“I’m not—”
She wanted to get her say in before he had a chance to manipulate the facts. “Oh, don’t even bother to lie again. I know who you are. And it seems to me that the reason your country needs the—what did you call it?—the morale boost of a new monarch is because you, Prince Wilhelm, want to quit.”
“I—”
“Yes, you.” She grabbed the magazine, opened it to the right page and thrust it onto his lap. “How long did you think you could keep that from me? And why would you bother?”
A long, tense moment passed before he said, “I have not quit.”
“Yes you have. The minute you have a replacement, you’re outta there.” Several emotions bubbled in her—residual shock, embarrassment, disappointment and even a little awe. “And you’ll take just about anyone as that replacement.”
He looked down at the magazine for a moment, then back at Amy. “I’ll accept only you.”
Something about his tone, and his words, sent a thrill through her, even as she tried to maintain her anger. “I don’t understand any of this. Why me?”
“I’ve told you. Because you’re the rightful heir to the throne.”
“Even if I am, through the technicality of genetics, that doesn’t mean I’m the right person for the job. Blood means almost nothing in reality.”
“Blood means everything,” he said sternly. It is what separates you from the common shop girl.”
“I am the common shop girl! Unlike you, I have no problem being honest about who I am.”
“That’s not a fair assessment. I didn’t tell you who I was because I was well aware of how difficult my story would be for you to believe, and I thought telling you who I was would make it even more unbelievable.”
“You could have brought this.” She thrust the magazine toward him. “You could have shown me your picture in there.”
“And had you accuse me of being a lookalike, sent by your friends as some sort of birthday gag?”
He was right, that was exactly what she would have thought, but she didn’t want to give that to him. “How can you possibly presume to know what I would think or do?”
He gave a dry smile. “Perhaps you don’t realize how carefully I researched before approaching you. I spent months learning about you, studying the choices you’ve made in your life, and speculating about what kind of person you might be.” His green eyes softened with a tenderness that was unexpected to her. “You’d never heard of me, so this was and is all new to you. But I have thought about you, Amelia, every day for weeks.”
Her breath caught in her throat. He was an undeniably charming man. She’d known that before she’d ever boarded the plane, but she was determined not to let him get to her. She was determined not to compromise her values under the enchanting glow of his gaze.
“You don’t know me,” she objected, with less vehemence than she’d hoped.
“No?”
“No!”
“I know that you are not the kind of person to take her duties lightly.” A small smile turned his mouth up. “After all, you were the president and treasurer of your tenth-grade high school class.”
She remembered. “No one else would run.”
He chuckled softly. “And you didn’t want to let your people down. Your classmates,” he corrected.
She met his eyes. “No, I wanted to go on the tenth-grade ski trip in the Poconos. No treasurer, no funds. It was selfish.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That hardly seems sufficient reason to give me the crown. Europe is teeming with old royal blood. Surely there were scores of people in line, people who would have been every bit as devoted as you imagined I would be. Or more so.”
The silence that took over the next few seconds was nearly deafening.
“None of whom could have solved the problem.”
“The problem?” Amy asked. “What problem?”
“The problem of…” He sighed. “My guilt.”
Amy wasn’t expecting that. It took her a moment to formulate a response, and even when she did, it wasn’t a great one. “Guilt? You mean for not wanting your position on the throne?”
He shook his head and looked pained. “The coup twenty-five years ago was…not a bloodless one.” He swallowed, but his eyes remained cool. “There was no one left. No one but you.”
He held her gaze for a moment, but she slowly shook her head. “You have the wrong woman.”
“I don’t think so,” he said in a tone of absolute certainty.
It was already becoming more difficult to fight this beautiful fantasy, but she knew she had to. If only to protect herself from the inevitable letdown. “Look, I can’t prove you wrong at the moment, but I know in my heart I’m not the person you’ve been looking for.” Emotion thickened in her throat. “I’m sorry. I know you went to a lot of trouble to come to me and to arrange this blood test, but it’s just going to prove what I’ve said all along. I’m no princess.”
He watched her for what seemed like ages, studying her face, her mouth, her eyes. Then he reached out and cupped his hand on her cheek. “If I didn’t believe it before, I do now. You are more regal, more noble, than anyone I have ever met.”
She resisted the urge to close her eyes and sink into the warmth of his touch. “I’m no different from anyone else.”
He smiled that movie-star smile. “Princess Amelia, you are too modest.” He didn’t move his hand.
And she didn’t move a muscle, for fear that he would. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said, gently sliding his hand through her hair and pulling her close. “I don’t know another woman who would resist the offer I’ve given you.”
Her mouth went dry. Their faces were inches apart. One turbulent bump and she’d lose the tenuous balance she had and would land in his lap. “Have you offered it to many of them?”
He cocked his head and looked amused. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”
She tried to affect the composure she didn’t feel. “I don’t know you nearly as well as you seem to know me.”
“Do you want to?” he asked.
Her voice took on a breathy Marilyn Monroe quality she didn’t intend. “I—I don’t know.”
“Are you easily persuaded?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper itself.
She didn’t point out that she wasn’t too hard a sell, since she was on the plane with him. Instead she said, “Every year on January 1, I make a resolution to strengthen my willpower.”
He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
“And every year around January 10 I give up trying.”
He laughed. “Then don’t try. Willpower is an overrated asset. You have far better ones.”
She swallowed. “I do?”
He nodded. “You do.” And before she could object, or even think to try, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Her body reacted before her mind had a chance to object.
She had been kissed before, but the moment his lips touched hers, it felt like the first time. As if what she’d experienced before were not kisses, but fumbling adolescent attempts at kisses. Everything that had happened before in her romantic life sank away like a barely remembered dream.
Suddenly this was her reality.
Never before had she experienced the physical rush that washed over her, her heart pounding so hard against her rib cage it felt as if it might crack, the explosion of sensation that took over and froze her mind, and the dizzying sense of urgency.
It felt wonderful. He was delicious. And warm. And strong. And the unusual, but distinct scent of his after-shave was intoxicating.
Trying to resist him felt like trying to walk straight after consuming a bottle of vodka, but Amy made the effort.
She drew back and asked, in what felt like a drunken slur, “What are you doing?” Her head was still swimming with the pleasurable sensation, and if he had taken her wordlessly back into his arms, she would have been powerless to resist.
But he didn’t. Instead, he appeared maddeningly composed. “Isn’t this done in America?”
“Yes.” She nodded, buying time to try to come up with a clever response. She couldn’t. “By people who know each other.”
His mouth cocked into a half smile. “Did I not introduce myself?”
“Actually, no, Your Highness—” she paused for emphasis “—you did not. Not with any degree of truth, that is.”
He dipped his head. “Then allow me now. I am Wilhelm De Beurghoff, crown prince of Lufthania.” He took her hand. “Soon to be the former crown prince of Lufthania, that is. You may call me Will.”
Her hand was warm in his, and though she thought she should pull it back, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. “Will, huh?” Her voice was weak from excitement, but she tried to sound normal. “I like that much better than Franz.”
“Franz will be sorry to hear that.”
“There really is a Franz?”
He nodded. “He’s my secretary.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Secretary to a prince who doesn’t want the throne? You know, I have to say, I find that part of this pretty hard to believe as well.”
“Why is that?”
“It defies human nature. People want to be royalty. They don’t want to move out of the castle, they want to move in. It makes no sense for you to go searching for another heir—” A thought too horrible to voice came to her. Maybe he did want the throne. Maybe he wanted to find what he called the “legitimate heir” so he could get rid of any possible threat.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, concern coming over his face. “Are you ill?”
Amy tried to regain her composure. If he did want to get rid of her, she mustn’t appear to be afraid. “No, I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was weak.
“No, you’re not.” He got up and went to the small refrigerator across the room. When he came back he had a bottle of cold water. “Perhaps this will help.”
He was trying to help her. If he didn’t care what happened to her—indeed, if he wished ill upon her—he wouldn’t try to help her, would he?
She took the water. “Thank you.”
“What happened to you?”
She shook her head. “It was nothing.”
His gaze was penetrating. “I don’t believe you.”
She gave a dry laugh. “That makes us even.”
He didn’t share her levity. “You don’t trust me,” he said quietly. “And that scares you.”
She was so shocked at his accurate assessment that her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to.”
“But—”
“It’s all right. Were I you, I would be equally skeptical.”
“It’s not just skepticism.”
He studied her for a moment. “Surely you don’t believe I mean you harm.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look in your eyes.” He leaned forward and put his hands on hers. “You’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
He watched her in silence before saying, “You don’t believe I want to give up the throne. You said as much yourself. So this is…” He made an expansive gesture. “You believe I intend to, how do you say, get rid of the competition?”
She raised her chin and hoped he couldn’t hear the nervous pounding of her heart. “That’s an interesting theory.”
He chuckled softly. “It’s true, Americans watch too much television.” His eyes met hers. “No, Amé, I do not want to eliminate you. I want you to take the throne, where you belong. But I will tell you the truth, it’s not purely from a feeling of illegitimacy on my part.”
Finally he was starting to be honest. She believed he didn’t mean her harm. He’d gone to too much trouble to find her and tell her who he believed she was. Relieved, Amy asked, “What is it?”
“This is not something I wanted to share so soon,” he said, standing up and going to the iced champagne. “But under the circumstances, I suppose I must.”
“I’m listening.”
He filled his glass and turned to face her. “Lufthania was once one of the wealthiest nations in Europe. Now there are people starving in the streets.”
“Why?” Amy gasped. “What happened?”
“The laws regarding imports, and therefore exports, were tightened. People were no longer able to make a living creating Lufthania’s greatest product.”
“What is that?”
“Chocolate.”
Chocolate! She was being taken to rule a country whose greatest product was chocolate! Her heart leapt. There was nothing he could have said that would have made her feel more like she belonged there. “And the people no longer make it?”
He shook his head grimly. “We are a democracy run by dictators.” He gave a small shrug. “That is, much of the current regime disapproves of progress, of technology and thus of the way the rest of Europe and the world live. They would not let electronic imports in, which cut off a good deal of our export business and left many families unable to earn their living.”
It was hard to believe. “Your government would rather see its people starve than move into the twenty-first century?”
“Exactly.”
She believed him. There was no way a person could fake the disgust he showed for the situation. “And what does finding a new princess have to do with it? How can that help?”
“It can help,” he said, “because by bringing a beautiful American princess in, a modern woman from a modern world who cannot be removed from the public eye by a vote or other means, the country can move forward.”
“But how? What if they just hate me? Or whoever ends up on the throne,” she corrected quickly.
He smiled and took a sip of his champagne. “You’ve seen this phenomenon over and over. A beautiful young royal enters the public eye and soon young girls everywhere are imitating her, demanding information about her from the press. It’s the kind of thing the government is powerless to control.”
“Like with Princess Diana.”
“Precisely. And a handful of others.” He gestured toward the magazine next to her. “That publication is one of many devoted exclusively to European royalty. But I am not as interesting to them as you will be.”
She thought about the article on him, and the extremely good photographs of him. He was probably a heartthrob to thousands of women in his country. Millions, if there were that many.
“I doubt anyone would be more interesting than you to the media.”
He tipped his glass toward her. “You are too kind.”
But she was not to be distracted. “Okay, so I understand the theory behind this, though I’m not sure it’s right to just pick anyone to take over and pretend to be the princess—”
“You are the princess.”
She held a hand up. “Okay, say I am. What do you do when I take the throne?”
He hesitated.
“Will?”
He expelled a long breath. “I want to take a job in the government. The only way I can change things is from the inside. Not from a gilded perch designed only for the amusement of the old school.”
“But if you’re the crown prince, can’t you make the laws and force the government to uphold them?”
“No, it is as I told you. The prince or princess is merely a figurehead. The throne holds no power.”
“And a royal can’t run for office.”
“No.”
Now she got it. Now it all made sense. And Will was a much better man than she’d given him credit for. His eagerness to find a replacement was not from laziness, or from the desire to do away with another heir so he could hold on to power forever, it was from his concern for his country.
His people.
For one wild moment, she wanted nothing more than to help him. No matter what it took. “I understand,” she said. “And I admire you for it.”
He smiled that dazzling smile. “Then you will help?”
“I—”
“Your Highness,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.
They turned to see a large man in what must have been a captain’s or co-captain’s uniform.
“Yes, Max?”
The man spoke in German, which Amy didn’t understand, and Will responded in the same language, before turning back to her. “We’re landing in ten minutes,” he said. “Put your seat belt on and look out the window. You’re about to see your country.”